The 64th Hunger Games
by FantasyDreamer05
Summary: The rules for the Hunger Games are simple: be the last one standing out of 24. When two competitors stumble across each other, an alliance is formed. But knowing only one can come out alive, how will they deal with their growing feelings for each other?
1. The Reapings

Under the water everything is calm, noiseless and gone. The District, the Capitol, the Reaping, the Games, everything. Even me. The pressure starts to get to me, the need for air nagging at my chest, wanting to take away my solitude. If I were a fish I wouldn't need air. I wouldn't have to face the Reaping. I could just stay down here and swim. What a great fantasy.

The need for oxygen wins over my longing for an escape, and I break the surface taking in the air my lungs so rudely demand. I have to admit, I love the rush of oxygen after deprivation. Most would say I have a problem, but the life we live we all have our personal escapes.

I hear my name being called from the shore and, I kick the water until I'm walking the sand to my sister. Koko stands arms crossed just under her chest. The dress she wears fits her too perfectly. I don't like it. Every boy's eyes will be on her at the Reaping. Though I guess for one poor guy he may as well enjoy one good sight before he's gone. Just wish it weren't my sister. At eighteen we match in height and hair color, both of us with dark curls and hazel eyes. She looks like mom, down to a tee from pictures we've seen of her. For the reaping her hair is brushed and set with two pearl clips to hold it back. The blue dress accents her perfectly, her figure laid out evenly in it. This is our last Reaping and then we are safe.

"Come on Flipper, you're going to make us late. Peacekeepers won't be happy about that," She says as she tosses my dress clothes at me and nods toward the shed near the dock. "Hurry up."

_~The Hunger Games~_

The voice barely registers to me, but it's enough to pull me from my thoughts. I glance to my left and blink my eyes a few times. The person beside me laughs and knows by my wide-eyed look that I hadn't been paying attention to what was said.

"What?" I ask, prompting the person to repeat what had been said.

"I said 'whatcha thinking about?'"

I shrug. "What makes you think I was thinking?"

I twirl a loose curl that had fallen out from the bun it had been in, and gaze off at the clouds in the clear blue sky. I watch as a few birds passed in front of one of the white clouds, and instantly wished I could be like them. To fly away without a care in the world, to be able to do as I pleased and not worry about anything. I especially wished that on this day. Today was the Reaping, the day when we said goodbye to a friend or family member and accepted the fact they probably weren't coming back. No one liked it, but no one dared say what they thought about the Games for fear of being punished. I scoff. As if the Games weren't punishment enough.

I vaguely hear Stitch's voice in the back of my head, tearing me from my thoughts again, and I turn to face him trying to catch the last bit of his sentence. But it's useless. I blink my eyes at him again and he shakes his head.

"That's my point," He says, waving a hand in my direction as if it solved all his problems. "You're spaced out and you've got this far-off look in your eyes," He replies. "That's how I know you're thinking." He pauses for a moment. "And you're twirling your hair. You always twirl your hair when you think."

This observation from him about me makes me smile. Stitch Hollis, despite being a year older than me, has been my best friend since we were real little. I can't remember a time when I didn't have him by my side. He knows almost everything there is to know about me: my hobbies, my likes and dislikes. He knows me and I know him, and I'd be lost without him.

Like me, he has bright blue eyes. Unlike my light blonde hair, his hair is a very dark brown, practically black color bringing out the light blue in his eyes even more. Also unlike me, he is about six foot tall. He has a lean body frame, a little bit larger than most of the boys in District 8, but not by much. Generally he's fit, but that's mostly natural with both his parents being trim.

"You pay attention to me too much for your own good," I joke and he smiles before standing up and offering me his hand. I accept and he pulls me to my feet before nudging his head in a direction down the street.

"You should get home and get ready for the reaping," He says. "See ya 'round Little Bit," He adds and I roll my eyes at his nickname for me.

Standing at five foot tall, I'm pretty short and Stitch likes to make fun of my height by giving me an arsenal of nicknames, some of them being Pixie, Fairy, Little One, Smalls, Tiny, Half-Pint and now Little Bit. I couldn't get away from them. I shake my head at him and glare before heading off in the direction of my house to get ready for the rest of the day.

_~The Hunger Games~_

Koko and I make our way up to the center of the District. People walking in the same direction, a solemn mood all around. As we walk our usual Reaping conversation starts almost like a ritual.

"Did you do everything that needed to be done? If we don't make it home today?" Koko askes me so calmly as if this is normal, and for us it is.

I nod and ask if she had as well, granted with a nod in return. We walk in silence for a while, kicking sandy dirt as we go. The path from the beach to the center of town is made up of well worn sand and dirt from a multitude of travelers. The center of town is within the hills, blocked away enough from the sea in case of a flood. We reach the top of the hill and stop, looking down at the row and lines of kids signing up and being sent to stand in groups.

"I don't want you coming with me."

I look at my sister as she speaks, keeping her eyes away from me, focused on the landscape in front of us, people moving around us as if we weren't there. "We've been over this. I'm not letting you go alone_ if _it comes to that. But we don't have that many slips, far less then others."

She finally turns her head to mine and our matching eyes lock. "But it's a possibility one of us could get chosen." The concern was in her eyes. She couldn't kill me if I joined her, nor could I kill her. It wasn't possible.

"I would rather die with you then live without you. You're the same and you know it. Two halves, one whole, remember?" As I spoke I pull the braided necklace out from under my shirt, a small shell half attached to it. With a small smile Koko did the same.

"Two halves, one whole." Holding my hand out to her she takes it and we once again start down the hill to join the lines and groups.

We reach the square, which is more of just an open air circle market. All the merchants have been moved for the day, business closed until the Capitol destroys a few more homes. Together hand in hand we walk up and sign in, ignoring the looks from the Peacekeepers. It's not against the rules, we are the same age group. They usher us on and as we reach the point of separation, we stop.

"Last year. One more time yeah?" I ask my sister, hold out my pinky as I do before each Reaping.

She cracks a smile and interlocks her pinky with mine. "One more time"

A Peacekeeper comes to shove us apart but we break before he reaches us, giving "respectful" nods and plastering on our best "Career" expressions. I make my way to the line of boys my way, my sister to the girls. I can't help but notice the eyes of the guys in my row following the movement's of my sister. It's disgusting.

As if on some on non cue we all fall silent just before the doors of the courthouse open. The Mayor nods respectively, taking a seat as the last two remaining tributes sit by him. Kiki Elamone makes her sparkling entrance, and by sparkling I mean just that. Her dress this year is made solely of diamonds and jewels that glitter with each movement. Her eyelids have small jewels lining them and spiralling outward. Her wig, or at least I think it's a wig, is all sparkles and shine. She's our Capitol escort and she's lucky we aren't escorted by boat or a past tribute may have knocked her over to let the jewels sink her.

I space out, focusing on my breathing as though I'm swimming. I don't want to hear the usual trill of her voice spreading her sweet sounding venom. I shut off to the world until I hear her announce her grand act of picking a name from the girls. Her sparkly nails snatch up a name eagerly and she cheerfully reads it into the microphone.

"Kokanee Fisher." Kiki's accented voice rang out as though she were calling for an old friend.

There was no way I heard that right. The Capitol accent must have distorted the name, right? Wrong. I look over to the row of girls and see Koko stare straight ahead. To anyone else the smirk on her face would make you think she's excited. But I know her and I can see the tension running through her shoulders and down her spine. I want to grab her hand and walk with her, just take a place now and be with her, but I have to wait.

Her eyes meet mine and I see in them the plea for help, the fear she never showed anyone other than me. I give her a reassuring nod, a promise that I'm coming with her as Kiki calls her name again. I watch, settling myself to join her soon. She steps up and takes her place, head held high as we've been taught, the picture of the perfect proud tribute.

"Now for the boys!" Kiki gives a giggle that could kill a dog if we had any. I set my jaw and prepare to volunteer when "Well this is interesting now, isn't it? Gillian Fisher."

The crowd goes dead silent, not even a murmur as _my _name rings through the square. Was this even possible? Our last year, twelve slips a piece and we are both chosen. This time when I look at Koko her expression has broken slightly as she tries hard not to shake her head and speak the words we are both thinking. "Unbelievable."

I take a deep breath, ball my fists for support and make my way to the podium to join my sister. Kiki ushers me up as though we are old friends. My expression stays the same, proud to mirror my sister's recomposed expression. Always a matching pair.

"Twins! Practically identical at that! What a twist! Oh these games will be fun!" Kiki chimes and it takes everything I have not to punch her. "Shake hands, sibling or not, shake shake!" She urges us and we turn to face each other our eyes the sharing a conversation of its own as our actions play to the crowd. Kiki giggles and bounces and claps her hands in front of her as if she's four. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" She bubbles before ushering us inside. Our hands link once the doors close and though they try to separate us as is tradition we don't allow it. Not until a peacekeeper places a gun on our shoulders. Grudgingly we let go and let them lead us to separate rooms.

_~The Hunger Games~_

I sit on my bed, legs folded Indian style with my hands in my lap twirling some loose strings from the hem of my dress around my fingers. I pick at the material of the dress, feeling how soft it is from being so worn. Today I'm dressed in a simple green dress that falls just below the knee. The green of the dress is a little faded, but it's still the prettiest dress I own. Maybe I'm a little bias in that opinion. It was my mother's dress and I think anything of hers is beautiful.

I get up off of the bed and stand in front of the mirror in my room and twirl a loose strand of hair that has fallen down from the messy bun I had pulled it up into. I had braided a section of my hair and wrapped it around the bun, holding it in place.

"You need to keep this tied," I hear a voice say as a person enters my room and in a few seconds, my oldest brother Dion is standing behind me. I can see the top of his head over mine in the mirror as he ties back the ribbon on my dress into a bow. I turn to face him and he can see the questions and fear in my blue eyes that match his own.

"What if-?" I begin to say 'What if I get picked?' but he barely lets me get two words out before he holds up a hand to me to stop me from finishing my thought and I sigh and bite my lip in a nervous habit. My father caught me doing it once and smiled. He said my mother used to do that all the time when she was nervous.

"You won't," Dion reassured me. "Your name is only in there five times. Others have their name in many more times than that. You're fine." He smiles at me as he lightly taps my chin with his closed hand. "Chin up, Tiny," He says and I roll my eyes at the many nicknames the males in my life seem to have blessed me with.

I step forward and hug him tightly. I know he doesn't like me to acknowledge that I could possibly be picked, but that doesn't mean _I _can't think of the great possibility it is. He smiles down at me before gently pushing me away and pulling my locket out from under my dress. The locket belonged to my mother, and after she died, my father put a picture of her in it and gave it to me. Something to always remember her by. I twirl the golden chain around my finger and gaze up at my brother before he pulls me out into the main room of our house where my father and other brother, Azure, were waiting.

"You look beautiful, sis," Azure says as he smiles at me.

I smile at him before turning to my father who pulls out a small black box, the four corners rounded. He opens it and pulls out a small hair comb with three, small, white roses. Cream pearls had been glued to the petals of the roses. The clip must've been old because some of the pearls were missing, but it was still beautiful and I instantly love it.

He steps forward and slides it into my hair just in front of my bun and smiles. "You do look beautiful. Just like your mother." He pauses and takes a deep breath, his smile faltering before he plasters it back on, but this time I can tell it's forced. "We should go before we're late." He takes my hand in his and leads the way outside of our home before walking to the Square where the Reaping would be located.

I know I'm sixteen and holding your parents hand is for little children, but I was grateful to have my hand in his. It helped calm me as we walked because the closer we got to the Square, the louder and faster my heart beat. Usually I enjoyed going to the Square, but on Reaping days, I hated it. The Square is the prettiest place in District 8 and for us, that's not saying a lot.

District 8 is very plain, not much to see. It's very city-like with industries in the background against the sky. The houses are very close together and the ground is mostly dirt, not a single blade of grass in sight. Most of the buildings in District 8 are gray or black, sometimes a dark brown can be seen, but colors aren't very rampant here.

The Square is located in the center of District 8, and true to it's name, it's in the shape of a square. The walls are white and located on each corner, but not completely connecting to the other walls. It's out in the open with the market-where everyone buys their food and necessities-around it. We enter into the Square, and I see Stitch already standing in the roped off areas where the possible Tributes stand, males on one side, females on the other.

I squeeze my father's hand tighter, knowing this is where we part ways. He will go stand with my brothers in the back where the other adults and young children, who are not of the age to be picked, stand while I go and sign in. I don't want to let his hand go; I want him to stand with me in line to sign in and I want him to stand with me in the crowds while we wait for the Tributes to be picked, but I know that can't happen.

"You better go, Princess." He lets go of my hand and kisses my forehead before he and my brothers stand beside Stitch's mother. Stitch, like me, lost a parent when he was very young, so my father has tried to help his mother out as much as he can. The two have tried to look out for one another. Just like their children, they bonded, and just like their children, they found comfort in someone's similar situation.

After I sign in, I'm herded into the roped off area for sixteen year olds. The older ones are in the front closer to the stage and the younger ones are in the back further away. As the time passes by and we wait for everyone to take their places, I can remember when I was twelve, and it was my first time being eligible for the Reaping. I was confused, lost but mostly scared. I remember as we walked to the Square, my brothers reassured me nothing would happen.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by the voice of the mayor of our District as he reads from a script about the history of Panem before going into the rebellion, the reason we have the Hunger Games now. After he is through reading off the names of the past victors from our District, he takes a seat off to the left of the stage as a woman with lime green hair piled on her head in tight, little curls steps up to the microphone. Althea Hayes, the escort for District 8.

I hope that is a wig because anyone with that color hair should never be allowed out of their bedroom, let alone in public. Her dark pink dress clashes with the color of her hair, and I begin to wonder to myself if these Capitol people actually think about what to wear or if they just put on the first thing they see.

Before I can think much more on that thought, Althea grins before speaking. "Happy Hunger Games!" She says, her voice high-pitched and very kiddish. In an attempt to sound younger, I assume.

I glance over at Stitch and he catches my eyes before mouthing the next few words with her, the phrase you hear every year associated with this event. I can't help the small smile that plays on my lips at watching his lips move but only hearing her voice with her Capitol accent.

"And may the odds be _ever _in your favor." She smiles out at the audience. "Ladies first!" Her voice is way too cheerful for this occasion, but everyone in the Capitol treats this as a sporting event, so her cheerfulness is no surprise really. She crosses the stage over to a table with a large glass container on it that resembles a fish bowl to me, except, instead of fish, this bowl is filled with thin slips of paper, five of which have my name on them.

Althea reaches into the bowl, her hand rummaging through the papers before grasping one and pulling it out. She unfolds the paper as she makes her way back across the stage to the microphone. She reads the name on the paper once to herself, before glancing up and scanning the audience as if she knows who it is, which she doesn't because she doesn't know any of us. She's holding us all in suspense, and we hate it. Finally, she brings the suspense to an end.

"Kairi Chandler." Her voice rings out over the audience and my mouth drops open. I hadn't heard her right. There was no way. It couldn't have been my name she called. It just couldn't have been. I glance around, waiting for someone to move towards the stage because it had been their name and not mine, but no one does. She calls the name again, and this time there is no mistaking it. It's my name.

With a sinking heart, I bite my lip and make my way to the stage. I take Althea's hand, which is outstretched to me, and I'm actually grateful for it. It helps keep me steady as I walk the few steps up onto the stage beside her. She lets go once I'm beside her and turns and asks the crowd if there are any female volunteers. For a moment, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'll be spared and someone else will want to compete. While we are not a Career District, sometimes District 8 has volunteers. Maybe this year will be one of those years.

But only silence greets Althea's request and I feel my heart sink even more. I try to control the broken expression which I'm sure is evident on my face, but I know it's almost pointless. I know cameras are trained on me at this moment. A single tear rolls down my cheek, but I don't bother to wipe it away. I've learned that if I try to wipe away a tear I end up crying more, and that is not what I want to happen.

I bite my lip to keep more tears from spilling over as Althea crosses the stage to the table with a glass bowl similar to the one my name was pulled from. Only, this one holds the male's names in it. She reaches in and grasps the first one her fingertips brush against and within a moment she's back at my side in front of the microphone. She unfolds the paper and gazes out at the audience before smiling.

"Kendal Allerdyce."

There were a few murmurs throughout the crowd and I watch as disagreement with who was picked shows on their faces. No one ever likes it when a younger kid is chosen and Kendal is no exception. He's twelve years old, and he's someone I've watched over occasionally with his little sister, Linsey, who's only seven. Both are really sweet kids as are their parents, and it's not fair for this to be happening to their family. It's not fair for this to be happening to anyone's family.

Kendal slowly makes his way onto the stage. His face is pale white, his eyes wide and his lips look swollen, like he's been chewing on them in the past few minutes while everything was happening. Mine probably look very similar to his.

Althea smiles at him as he turns to face the crowd and I hear a soft sniffle from him. _This is isn't fair_, I think. I always find a bright side for what happens in life, but I see no brightside in forcing a twelve year old boy to fight for his life against much older and larger teenagers.

I've avoided looking towards where all the parents are because I know I'll cry if I see my father and brothers' expression. But I can't help but look through the faces to find Kendal's mom. Her expression is broken, defeated-just like I would expect a mother to feel. She's grasping onto her husband's hand tightly and trying to keep herself composed. Just like me, I'm sure, she's failing miserably at it.

As I glance past the faces again to look up at Althea beside me, my gaze freezes on my family, and all three of them are doing a much better job at keeping calm than I am. But to me who's known them for ever, their jaws are set and their eyes are narrowed a bit too much for normal. I close my eyes briefly trying to regain my composure I lost.

"Are there any male volunteers?" Althea asks, and my gaze is redirected back onto her. You can tell by the tone in her voice she doesn't expect there to be any. No one does. But yet, out of the crowd of possible male Tributes, comes a voice. And I close my eyes, hoping against hope that the voice is not who I think it is.

_Don't do this. Don't do this. Don't do this, _I repeat to myself over and over but when I open my eyes the voice belongs to the one person I didn't want it to be. Stitch Hollis is standing on the ground directly in front of the stage, determination in his blue eyes. Althea grins and motions him up on the stage.

"What's your name?" She asks him and she holds the microphone over to him so the entire crowd and all of Panem will know.

"Stitch Hollis," He replies, his voice unreadable.

Althea nods before turning to Kendal, a disappointed look on her face as she addresses the twelve year old. "Maybe next year you can be in the Games," She tells him and he hugs Stitch, thankful that he's taking his place, before he hops off the stage and runs into his mother's waiting arms.

_Hopefully not,_ I reply in answer to Althea's statement to Kendal. My heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and my thoughts are running wildly out of control. Stitch, my best friend, just volunteered to go to the Games. _Why? _I wouldn't wish this on anymore, especially not him. I need him here with his mother. She already lost her husband, she can't lose her son, too. It is taking everything in me not to break down and cry right now, knowing Stitch and I will have to fight to the death in the arena. I can't believe he did this. I can't believe it!

"Shake hands and congratulate each other," Althea says before stepping back to allow us to do as she requested. I turn to face him and glance up into his eyes. My mistake. I had been doing really well at controlling my emotions, but I crumble the moment my blue orbs lock onto his.

Despite his strong, determined face, his eyes give him away if you knew him. He was scared, terrified, but Stitch being Stitch wouldn't ever show it or tell anyone. Before I can help myself, I close the distance between him and I hug him tightly, my arms around his neck. Because I'm so short, he lifts me off of my feet slightly as he hugs me back. And that's when the tears fall. I can't help it.

He lets me go and steps back. I glance down, trying to hide my tears, but Stitch picks my chin up and wipes away a tear with his thumb. "Let them see," He says quietly so only I can hear. I nod my head before stepping back, allowing Althea back to the microphone.

"Thank you residents of District 8 and happy Hunger Games!" She says cheerfully before turning to glance at each of us. "And may the odds be _ever_in your favor." And then the anthem plays and finishes before I can think, and we're being taken by Peacekeepers that lead us through the doors of the Justice Building and then they close on our old life, our families and our friends.

The moment the doors close, Stitch and I are separated and I'm being led to another room off to the right. Once I'm in, that door is also closed and I'm left alone. I finally realize, I don't want to be alone. I just want to wake up and have this all been a really bad dream. I want to curl up in my father's side like I'm three again, and have him tell me stories. But I know that isn't going to happen, and I know this is reality and I have to accept it. Even if I don't want to.


	2. Train Rides

The Peacekeeper shoves me in a room, small and full of fishing books and memorabilia of the District's chief product. I stand in the middle of the room eyes shut tight, running hands through my hair. Breath in, 1-2-3-4. Breath out, 1-2-3-4. Repeat. I start to calm as the door opens and my "uncle" walks in.

"Three minutes," The Peacekeeper informs us before shutting the door. I stand facing the man that's raised me since I was four. He's not really our uncle, as far as we know he has no relation to us, but he took us in after our parents disappeared and raised us like his own.

We stood there awkwardly before he pulls me into a strong embrace. "You're bright, you'll do well. But do what feels right to you. Don't change for them." His advice rings in my ears as he pulls away.

"Thank you. For everything, Uncle." I make it as sincere and true as it is, this being the last time I'll see him. We both know this. The door opens and uncle nods again.

"I'll miss you, kid." With that he exits the room and it is locked behind him.

Memories flood me as he exits. The first night after our parents disappeared, the nights Koko and I had snuck out and were brought home by Peacekeepers. The calm look on his face as he brought us inside. He wasn't even angry or upset, he surprised us both by making a tea we saved for sickness. Said it was a good pick me up. We didn't run away after that.

The door opens again and a familiar blonde head stood in its frame. Finnick Odair is our neighbor's now thirteen year old son. He'd helped my uncle with jobs around the shop, and his mother had taught Kokanee how to cook.

"Finn? What are you doing here?" I couldn't suppress the question, it wasn't as if we were great friends him being five years younger and much different from myself.

"Just wanted to say thanks. For everything. I'd say I hope you make it back but then Kokanee wouldn't... I'm not sure which is worse one of you coming back or neither of you." He gives a nervous laugh as he ruffled his blonde hair. I've yet to let it sink in again the weight of the situation I am in. Reaching over I ruffle his gold curls.

"Keep uncle in line at the shop for me? Yeah? You know how he gets." I give him a half smile, trying to ease both our tension.

After a moment he gives me a hug and then, as did uncle, leaves once the door is opened for him. Once he's gone the door again opens and I'm being lead to a train, ushered on and left alone before Koko joins me, Kiki shortly after. Our hands interlock as the train begins to pull away from the District 4 Station. Pulling us away from everything we know and taking us to our final end.

_~The Hunger Games~_

I sat in the room the Peacekeepers had put me in. Inside it were many books on clothing or different designs of clothing. I walk over to one of the shelves and take a book off. Flipping through it, I see different clothing designs. Some long dresses, some nice shirts with ruffles. I set the book back down and turn towards the door when I hear the doorknob turn. The door opens and my father and only one of my brothers step in. I instantly walk over to them and my father wraps his arms around me. When I pull back, Azure hugs me as well. I can't stop the tears that fall down my cheeks and my father pulls me back to him, not wanting to see me cry. I can't help it.

"You're strong," Azure tells me, but I shake my head. The Games aren't for me. I know I won't make it through them. I've never fought in my life; I've never had reason to. But now I do. If I don't, I don't make it back home. But how am I supposed to want to come back when I know Stitch won't be here with me? So many thoughts are racing through my head and before I know it, my father and Azure are being pulled from the room. Their three minutes is up.

The door closes behind them and within a few seconds, it opens back up and I see Stitch's mother in the room. I can hardly look her in the eye knowing that if I come back, Stitch can't. I feel guilty, and the Games haven't even started. It's not fair. Before I can say anything, his mother is pulling me into a hug. I feel more tears come into my eyes, but I will them not to fall, and surprisingly they don't. She pulls back and smiles sadly at me, knowing if I came back her son wouldn't, but if her son came back I wouldn't.

"I love you, and you'll do just fine in the Games," She says. She hesitates, like she doesn't know if she should say what she wants to next. "Watch out for Stitch," She adds before she is ushered out of the room.

I sigh and sit down on the windowsill seat in the room. I curl my legs up to my chest just as the door opens and Dion walks in. I am up in an instant and wrapped securely in his arms. Out of my two brothers, I'm closest with Dion, even though he's the oldest. We stay like that for a little bit, and I can almost imagine the Games don't exist. I feel safe in his arms, but he seems to know we have a time limit, and pulls away.

"You'll do fine in the Games. You're stronger than you look. No one will take you as a threat because you're small. That'll be their mistake," He tells me.

"I don't wanna do this," I say quietly, pleadingly, but he shakes his head.

"I don't want you to either, but you don't have a choice. You'll come back to us. I know you will," He says then smiles. "I have faith in you." He hugs me again, and I wrap my arms tightly around him, not wanting to let go. I'm shaking, visibly, and Dion pulls away and does his best to calm me down, but it only helps a little.

His arms go back around me, and he begins to rock me side to side, like he used to when I was little, when I would wake up crying for mommy. He whispers quietly to me, and I feel my shakes start to lessen. But then the door is opened, and he's pulled away from me. Once he's gone, I feel my breathing begin to become shallower, harder to do. I finally realize, after they're gone, I might not see my family ever again. As I start to feel more tears in my eyes, the door is reopened. Before I can process everything that's happened, the Peacekeepers are leading me on to a train.

I sit down in a chair and within a few moments, Stitch joins me. I instantly curl into his side as the train takes off from the station, heading away from District 8 and to the Capitol. He wraps an arm around me as we both try to mentally prepare ourselves for what will come our way in the next two weeks before the Games.

_~The Hunger Games~_

The train buzzes low and quiet, only audible if you're listening for it. If you're trying to find a distraction from what's in front of you. Kiki is jabbering on about how dramatic a twist twins being picked for the Games is. How this is good for her, being the escort of what might just be the most popular little twist to start the Games. Our Mentor just sits, quiet and old, her eyes saying far more than her mouth.

"Right well, I don't know about you two but how about a bit of food before the Reapings are replayed for us?" Kiki chimes happily and bounces off towards a buffet table, glittering all the way.

Koko and I exchange a look, we are starving and despite ourselves follow over and are amazed at what we see. The food is large, fresh and delicious looking. We haven't seen food like this since our last victor when Koko and I were around 6. They died three years later, reasons unknown.

Without a word, I take a plate and Koko fills it. We haven't unweaved our fingers since we stepped on the train and we don't plan to yet. We walk back to our seat and I set the plate between us. Silently we eat until Kiki informs us that it's time to move to another car of the train and watch the replay of the Reapings. Together we follow and sit back down hands still tight together, lips sealed shut. We won't speak until we are alone, until we've sorted out our thoughts. The anthem begins and the usual talk commences. I watch close for reactions, facials and ages sizing up who might kill me or my sister.

District 1's male is tough, around seventeen, the female obviously an athlete. District 2, nothing noticeably different than their past tributes. Same with District 3.

Then it's our District, our Reaping. Kiki reading Koko's name, she squeezes my hand instantly as we watch her walk to the podium. She looks tough, strong, smug, perfect facade of what the Capitol wants. Then it's my face on the screen, a look to match hers. Both in complete control on the outside, just like now while our insides churn like a storm. The rest of the Reapings are a blur of names and faces in varying degrees of control.

The District 8 female couldn't hold her tears, her height and appearance will get her sponsors. She's cute in the pet sort of way the Capitol likes. The male is the only non-Career volunteer this year. Wonder what made him do that, until I see them hug. Poor guy.

The District 11 male is 12, the girl 14. Once the reaping replay is done it looks to be a horrible and interesting start to the 64th Hunger Games.

_~The Hunger Games~_

All I can think is _I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. _All I want is to be back home, curled up in my brothers' arms, knowing I'm safe for another year and only have two more left. But instead, I'm sitting on a train curled up beside Stitch on my way to the Capitol because this _is _my year.

The train moves on its way, quickly but smoothly, something I didn't think such a big machine was capable of. It's sort of like a rocking motion side to side, and I find it oddly comforting. I also find the buzzing of the engine and the metal against metal as the wheels move along the tracks thankfully distracting from Althea's voice. The second her voice began in an excited tone, I instantly shut her out. I know she means well and is only trying to make conversation, but I don't want to hear how she's glad Stitch volunteered because it makes good for the Games. _I'm _not happy he volunteered, and I still want to yell at him for that. But I can't. Not with knowing what we have to face.

I sigh before looking out the window and laying my head against Stitch's shoulder. I look out at the sun, only to find it's hidden behind some clouds. It seems even the skies know today is not a cheerful day because instead of a crystal blue, the skies are gray. I almost smile at it, but I can't. I instead close my eyes and turn away from the window.

I feel someone patting my side, and I flutter my eyes open. I must've fallen asleep because I feel groggy, and it takes a few moments for my senses to kick in. I sit up, trying to remember where I am because this scenery isn't familiar to me. And then I realize where I am and why I'm here, and I slump back in my seat against Stitch.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Stitch jokes with me and I offer him a weak smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Come on, Althea says there's food for us." He pats my side again in an effort to get me up and moving, but I shake my head.

"I'm not hungry," I reply.

He gives me a disbelieving look, and even I'm surprised to hear those words come out from my mouth. Despite being so small and tiny, I eat more than a lot of boys back in District 8. But the Reaping has taken my appetite from me. I can only shake my head at him and repeat my words. He stands up, and crosses the room to the table where the food is laid out, and I think he's let it drop. But then he returns shortly after carrying a plate of food. He sits down beside me and holds it out to me.

"Eat something," He says. I start to protest, but he holds up his free hand. "Just pick at it if you have to. But you need to eat something."

I sigh and know he's right. I glance down at the plate to examine the food. Its large, fresh and many different colors, just like the people in the Capitol. Everything looks ripe, and the colors are bright and inviting; I can't help myself. I begin to nibble at different items he's put on the plate, particularly a dinner roll. The bread is warm and soft and smells delicious, and soon enough I find myself reaching for a second one, this time with yellow butter that has a light brown coloring to it and tastes like apples.

As I start on my third roll, the anthem begins to play, and I curl into Stitch again, knowing the Reapings from the day are about to be replayed. The commentators voice begins, describing the events of the day: what has happened, what twists have occurred that we can look forward to seeing on the highlight reel and what to expect in this year's Games. Then the talking stops, and the reel starts.

I space out on the first few Districts. It's always the same. After being picked, more than a few step forward and Volunteer, considering it an honor to compete. Only two are picked out of the Volunteers, one male and one female. The rest are turned down and told to wait again until next year, apologetic looks on each of the escorts that they had to turn away such eager, willing young ones.

"Twins," I hear Stitch say quietly beside me, a disbelieving tone in his voice. "That's bad luck if I ever saw any."

"This whole thing is bad luck," I comment, but glance at the screen anyways.

The replayings are onto District 4. Making his way to the stage is a male. As he passes by everyone, he seems taller than most and he has dark hair. When he reaches the stage and stands on the empty side next to his escort, the camera pans out, and we're given a glimpse of the female Tribute. Just like the male, she has dark hair as well, curling down her back. The two of them bear a striking resemblance, and I can tell instantly they are siblings. Twins. I shake my head. Family members shouldn't have to compete against one another in this. That _is _rotten luck, just like Stitch said.

The rest of the Reapings are played, and I space out again until I feel Stitch's hand take mine. I glance at the screen almost instinctively and recognize our District's Square. I feel my heart begin to beat faster as I watch my own Reaping. Having an outside view on it, I wish there were so many things I could go back and redo, take back. The tears only make me look weak, something I can't look during the Games. At the Reaping, I thought I had fought the tears pretty well, but watching it on screen I realize I had only been kidding myself. You can see how evident the desire to cry is on my face. I still think I hold it together pretty well, but once Stitch volunteers, my face falls and the tears do as well. When he hugs me on the screen, I turn my head into him and feel the tears again. His arms tighten around me as the screen flips to another Reaping.

Once they are finished replaying, the commentators talk about what they saw, bringing up the twins from District 4, and Stitch's volunteering from District 8, something that doesn't happen very often. They talked about what this year's Games would hold, the Tributes to look out for and who they thought would win. I sigh, and block out the voices as I curl into Stitch even more. My eyes flutter close, and I find sleep overcoming me for the rest of the train ride.

_~The Hunger Games~_

The recap ends and Kiki excuses herself to her room. We won't be there until the next morning, there being the Capitol. Two weeks to train and to plan, strategize and 'enjoy' what's left of our lives. Mags, our mentor who has to be at least 70 years old, stands for the first time since we got on the train and hobbles over to us. She's short, and hunched over with age, her hair long and dark gray.

For a moment she looks at us both intently, as if she's about to tell us something, but then she simply reaches out and places her hand on our interlocked ones. Her old soft eyes connect with mine for a moment and in them I could see sorrow, sympathy, and understanding. Her eyes shift to Kokanee, mine watching her closely. She was an odd old woman, but I like her, something about her speaks comfort and strength. Koko and Mags exchange looks and a nod before the old woman removes her hand and hobbles out of the train car, leaving us alone at last.

We only have enough time to exchange squeezes before the Peacekeepers appear and drag us to our feet, directing us out into a different train car with bedrooms in it. One peacekeeper grabs my arm and jerks me away from Koko, our hands for the first time slipping from grip as he shoves me into my room the door slamming behind me. From the sound of it Koko is tossed in the room next door.

I sigh and look around, the sleeping car is spacious. A bed bolted to the wall, a table next to it with a lamp of what looks like crystal on top of it. I don't want to be here, or lay down in their bed. I want my sister, our room and our bed like when we were nine. I want to talk to her in more than looks and glances, we need to formulate a plan. _Knock-knock_. There's a pause. _Knock-knock-knock._

It's coming from the wall by the bed, Koko knocks the same pattern again. When we were little we came up with a "knock-knock talk", each set of knocks meaning something different. The one she's using now a question of whether I'm here. I sit down on the bed, leaning against the headboard and knock back my reply. It's comforting to talk like this, in only a way we know. At some point we fall asleep tapping away with small short conversations.

My dreams bring me home, to the water I love so much. I kick and glide through the salty sea as if I were a fish, and just ahead of me Kokanee swims, looking back at me giving me smirky underwater faces. We are racing and she's winning, but not for long. I kick quickly to catch up but she's gone ahead again and there's a problem. The water looks darker ahead, the current stronger as I try to reach her. I try harder but the current pulls me back farther. I keep trying with the same result, panic starting to set in. I scream her name under the water, kicking and thrashing as she gets farther and farther away.

_Thud. _I wake up on the ground tangled in sheets and sweat. It takes me a few minutes to realize where I am and that yesterday was not a dream but the water was. That Koko was in the room next door and for now we were both alive. It was enough to get me off the ground for the day ahead of me.

_~The Hunger Games~_

Someone is shaking my shoulders, and I slowly flutter my eyes open. The train is still moving, so I know we haven't reached the Capitol yet. The sky outside is dark, and I know it must be nighttime; we'll reach our destination sometime in the morning. Our Mentors have already gone to their rooms for the night, and so has our Escort. Stitch tells me we have to go to our rooms for the rest of the night, and I sleepily allow him to pull me to my feet. I lean against him as we make our way down the corridor to our rooms, the motions of the train combined with my half-asleep mind are throwing me off balance, and I cling to him for support. We reach the part in the corridor where two doors are located on the right, one next to the other where our two separate rooms are.

I don't want to let him go, but I know if I don't the Peacekeepers will force us apart regardless. So, I hug him quickly then move into my room and the door closes behind me. I take a deep breath before sitting on my bed cross-legged. I know I won't be able to sleep for a while without Stitch there. Having him beside me made me feel safe, secure. I knew I could sleep, and forget all of this if he was there. But he's a room over, and I'm left by myself. I decide to use this time to think on everything that has happened so far. Maybe it would help sleep come to me quicker.

In the next two weeks, we would be trained with our Mentors along with the other competitors to give us the best advantage we could gain at winning the games. We met our Mentors today on the train, a male and female.

The male's name is Woof and he is older, maybe in his sixties. With his old age, his memory is going. At times he had to repeat something to us he had just said not even two minutes ago. He was a nice man though, but I didn't see how he would able to help Stitch out much in the Games.

The female Mentor is Cecilia. She is the same age as my brother, Dion; both are twenty one. Before she had been Reaped, they were close, so I knew her pretty well. She had been Reaped at the age of sixteen, same as me now. While her and Dion still talk, they aren't as close now as they were then. And while I miss her as well, under these circumstances, was not the time to bring back old memories. She was a Mentor now, not a friend.

I find that I am lying on my back on my bed now, and I suddenly feel tired. I allow my eyes to close, and I know that when I wake we will be at the Capitol. The humming of the train wheels on the tracks puts me to sleep shortly after.

_~The Hunger Games~_

Koko and I sit at the table with Mags and Kiki eating what seems to be fresh bread and some sort of sweet jams. It's been a very long time since we had real bread, it's delicious. As I take my fifth slice and smear on the red gooey jam Kiki chirps on about her precious Capitol and what fun we will have during the opening ceremonies. Koko and I haven't spoken a word out loud since we've gotten on the train.

"Oh! The Interviews! That's one of my favorite things after the entrances! Cesar has such fun talking with all of you that is if you talk." She's not looking at us as she speaks, spreading a dark colored spread over a muffin. She glances between us hoping for a response. Koko and I both pause and look at each other, small smirks playing at our lips before we glance at her then begin what we were doing again. We are granted a huff and a pouting noise befitting of a 6 year old. "Fine, don't talk to me."

I reach out and stick my finger in her jar of dark spread, scooping up some on my finger and tasting it. It's sweet and strange and the look I get from Kiki makes it even better so I take the jar and another scoop offering it to Koko who copies my action.

Another huff. "Here I'm extending the Capitol's joy at having you with us and you repay me by becoming mutes and taking my chocolate." She waits for us to reply with some sort of apology expecting us to see the errors of our ways. We say nothing and are granted another sigh. "Fine. I'll be getting ready then, we'll be there soon."

Kiki stands from her seat, her puffy jeweled dress glittering like a bag of broken mirror hit with flashlights. She saunters off and exits the cab leaving us alone. Mags gets up and mumbles something before hobbling out of the cab as well. This is the first time me and my sister have been alone since they tossed us on here yesterday morning. We don't say anything at first, quietly working whatever is in our hands, waiting to make sure we really are alone. After a few moments I hear her fork clink against her plate and her chair scrape back.

"She said we'd be there soon. Aren't you even a little curious about the Capitol?" Koko's voice is normal, just like her to act like everything's fine. Of course I'm not much different. I push back my own chair and get up to join her by the window.

Outside the landscape is moving quickly past us, trees mainly. Just green and brown blurs, up ahead there's a tunnel and as we slip into the artificially light hole our hands knit together like they had before. At the exit of the tunnel lays the Capitol. Within that our training and last two weeks of guaranteed life. Two weeks to figure out a plan and enjoy what time we have left with each other.

_~The Hunger Games~_

I sit at the table in the dining car, casually picking at the fruit on my plate. Occasionally I'd eat a small grape or a piece of an orange fruit-I believe Althea said it was cantaloupe-but mostly I just move it around on my plate. I was nervous about entering the Capitol, and when I get nervous I hardly eat.

Visiting the Capitol for the Games was bittersweet to me. I was excited to be seeing the Capitol, it was something I had wanted to do since I was little. All the vibrant colors and sparkles and glitters seemed so fascinating, sometimes it was a bit much, but I was still excited. But then how could I be excited to be visiting when I knew I was only there to kill others and be killed myself? It just didn't seem fair. I almost wanted to pout, but I kept myself under control and did not. Instead, I sigh and lean back in my chair, my fork clinking against the glass plate I let it drop on to.

When the lights outside the train suddenly became darker, I stood up and walked over to the window and peered out. We had entered the tunnel that was the way into the Capitol. The small, round lights that hung from the ceiling of the tunnel would light up the dining car then black out as it passed underneath.

I feel something grab my hand, and I look over to see Stitch holding my hand. I smile at him as light floods through the window, and not the tunnel lights. It's bright sunshine. I glance out to see bright green hills that seemed to blend into the light blue sky with white puffy clouds scattered all around it. It was beautiful, and I couldn't help but enjoy the view. I lean a little forward to look at the Capitol and see buildings that seemed to touch the sky, sparkling in the sunlight.

_This is it_, I think as the train comes to a stop in the station where people are crowded around, waiting for us. Two weeks. We have two weeks to formulate plans, to enjoy ourselves while in the Capitol and to make a good impression on the residents living here. Two weeks, and we'll be saying our goodbyes. Two weeks and this could be the beginning or the end. It all depended on how we presented ourselves to the people in the Capitol.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself. _Ready or not._

_~The Hunger Games~_

I'm stuck lying on a table waiting for some team of frou-frou Capitol people to come in and make me "presentable". I hate this. Kokanee is a different room in a different part of the building. They separated us the moment we got off the train, not easily either. I punched one of the Peacekeepers by impulse when he grabbed my wrist. I really hate when people touch me like that. Just after that I felt something sharp in my shoulder and woke up unable to move on a cold metal table. Whatever they stuck in my arm keeps me trapped in place now. I hear the door open and footsteps of heels click on the ground. I don't want to see them so I close my eyes, faking sleep.

"Aw how cute! He's sleeping! Come on sleepy head wake up!" A high pitched Capitol accent trills as a small, slim hand smacks my face to wake me. This was going to be a long experience. I open my eyes and try not to glare, it's harder than I thought. "OH! Aren't your eyes just pretty! Pretty eyes and pretty body! Just need to clean you up!" The woman speaking is tall, plump and purple. Her skin, hair and clothes are also assorted shades of purple.

"Not bad at all! We did get lucky this year!" Another woman, short and small with a blue themed body starts to remove my cloths. If I could move I would have no problem hitting these women, no wonder they stuck my arm with something. Over the next few hours or at least it feels like hours, I endure scrubbing, poking, prodding and shaving. It's awkward and only a bit painful and made all the worse by the annoying giggles and snobby jokes of my "style team".

They leave and I lay there feeling far too clean for my liking. Another sound of the door and footsteps, still heels. Another sting in the shoulder and I can move again. Immediately I sit up and go to move off the table, but the action is too fast and a harsh wave of dizziness hits me and forces me to sit back down.

"My, my. They weren't lying. You are handsome, just as good looking as your sister. Shouldn't be hard at all to make you look nice. Question is will you talk to me? Or be as quiet as your counterpart?" The woman standing in front of me is tall and stick skinny, dressed in a yellow dress that fits to her figure, pale pink skin and bright green eyes. She looks like a snake, slimy and venomous. I keep my lips shut and after a few moments of a stare down she shrugs her shoulders and crosses the room to a black bag hanging on a chair. "Let's get you dressed shall we?"

_~The Hunger Games~_

The cool metal of the table I'm lying on-while uncomfortable-gives me something else to focus on rather than the more uncomfortable situation I'm in.

Once off the train, I had been separated from Stitch-much to my displeasure-and taken here. Being small, I hadn't tried to fight it, and simply let them lead me. I was placed in a room where three other people had been awaiting me. The second I was in, the only female of the group stepped forward and instructed me to remove my clothing. I had hesitated, not because I was self-conscious of my body or anything like that, but it felt odd with all of them staring at me intently. After a few moments of silence, I slowly began to remove my shirt and pants that I wore. Once I was wearing nothing, I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling uncomfortable underneath their scrutinizing gazes.

They had instructed me to lie down on a metal table. As they washed my hair and shaved and waxed my legs, I winced at the pain occasionally. They scrubbed me down, and cleaned me up and my hair had also been dried. Now, I lay waiting for my Stylist to come and visit me and tell me what I'm wearing to the Parade, the whole reason I was being prettied up. While I wait, I'm going over the names of the three people.

Parisa was the female. Her skin had been a pale green, making me think of a sea creature. She was pretty, her bright blue eyes stood out against the color of her skin, and her pale pink hair oddly enough didn't look so weird against the green coloring. She was average weight and about six or seven inches taller than I. She had high cheek bones, colored a light pink that still oddly didn't seem strange against her skin. Her clothes were other assorted shades of pink, splashes of green lined them here or there.

Titus, the taller of the two males had tan skin, like the color of mocha. His eyes were an amber color and his hair, which was cropped short against his scalp, was almost the exact shade of his eyes. His clothes clung tightly to his body and were assorted shades of yellows, oranges and golds all thrown together. Around his neck was a thick gold chain, two triangles had been glued together, one upside down, resembling a six-sided star. In the middle of the charm dangled a crescent moon.

Baron, the shorter of the two males, was plump and larger than Titus. Though his skin didn't appear so, I got the feeling he was the older male. His hair was a pure, snow white and fell past his ears in a shaggy teenage hairstyle. His clothes were all different shades of blues. His shirt seemed too small for his large body and his pants seemed to large, hanging off of his hips and looked like they might threaten to fall. Around his waist was a bright red sash tied off to the side that held his pants up. On his left earlobe was a red gem, matching the color of the sash. His brown eyes seemed oddly out of place, looking warm and kind and unlike his entire wardrobe.

I didn't dislike them like I thought I would have. They were intriguing and inviting all at once with all the colors they wore. Some of the colors seemed to mix, but others clashed. I was interested by it all. I had been quiet at first, afraid to speak, afraid they would be mean. But as I lay here waiting for my Stylist, I remembered Dixie had kept talking, intent on getting me to say something. She had said something I found funny, and before I could stop myself a giggle had left my lips. She paused in her cleaning of my nails and had glanced up at me, a grin spreading over her pink lips and revealing pearly white teeth.

"So you can speak," She had said in a girlish voice. "That giggle of yours is cute," She had added, and I had giggled again, not so embarrassed anymore.

I hear the door open, and I sit up, dangling my legs over the metal table I'm on. In walks another male, much taller than the other two I had already seen. This one is larger than the others, but not in an 'overweight' way. He was larger in his arms and shoulders, very muscular. He walks over to me and sits in a chair just off to the right of me. He doesn't say anything at first, just looking me over, and seeing what he has to work with, I guess. I assume he's my Stylist, although with his muscles I think he looks more like a Peacekeeper.

"I'm Atlas," He says holding out his hand. I gingerly place mine in his and he shakes it. His hand covers mine completely, and I suddenly feel very tiny next to him.

His skin was almost the same color as mine, maybe a shade darker. His green eyes are a pale color and rimmed with dark black liner, making the color pop more. His clothes were assorted shades of black and white. I think of it as more simple than the others I have seen in the Capitol, but yet the blending of the two colors on his clothing make it seem elaborate and complex and not at all out of place in this city. Despite being large and intimidating, his smile that he offers me is warm and kind and I feel at ease in his presence.

"You ready for the Tribute Parade?" He asks me as he stands up and crosses the room to a black bag that's hanging on a hook on the wall.

"I'm nervous," I admit as I tuck a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. I don't know what it is about Atlas, but I don't want to lie around him. I want to be honest and talk with him.

He smiles again, and my nerves are calmed slightly. "Don't be. It won't be hard to make the people like you," He says as he removes the bag from off the hook. He walks back over to me and stands in front of, offering his hand again. I take it and hop off the table when he indicates for me to do so. "Let's get you ready."


End file.
